The Nuisances that are Fangirls
by Detouredbe
Summary: "So here is a riddle to guess if you can, sing the bells of Notre Dame. When does a character have too many fans?..." Easy. When he has to run for his life, as our favourite gypsy king unfortunately does here!


**A couple of weeks ago I finally saw Disney's "The Hunchback of Notre Dame" for the first time. I was always interested in the film before, but somehow never got around to seeing it previously. Well, I'm definitely glad now I did; it's a great film as you'll all know!**

**The thing is, what I was most interested in was seeing the character Clopin. Although I'd seen HoND advertised pretty much everywhere for a long time after it was released, I remember he was not featured extensively in the promotions I witnessed, but just enough to catch my interest. Again stating what we'll all know is obvious, he's an even greater character than I could ever have imagined! It's no wonder he seems to have acquired such a fanbase among the female population of HoND fans.**

**Having seen and heard many jokes concerning "fangirls," and not seeing this topic covered for this fellow previously, I figured this just had to be done. In this oneshot we see what hazards can happen when an attractive male character is just minding his own business, then suddenly has to put up with being swarmed by his adoring fans. Things can get pretty nasty but will Clopin be able to make it out alive and intact? Well, read and see:**

**Copyright belongs to Disney and Victor Hugo.**

As Clopin finishes telling a story to the children gathered around his caravan, and they all proceed on their separate ways, he thinks he can have a quiet moment to himself, just breathing in the smells and listening to the sounds of Paris as he loves to do. He does not get more than a few seconds of this pastime, however, when a most unusual horde approaches him.

"Ah, _bonjour, mademoiselles_," he greets the many, many women he is suddenly faced with. Not one of them gives a verbal response to him, however. They just stand there staring at him, amorous-eyed, some with their mouths agape in incredulous smiles. Anyone might find this amusing the first ten seconds in at most, but after that it usually begins to grow a bit awkward, as Clopin now feels this situation is. "Is there something I can do for you all? Tell a story, perhaps?"

Well finally. It (the herd of women, or themselves on an individual basis) talks! "Oh yes!" one at the front, near the window of Clopin's caravan, says excitedly, leaning up close to him. Closer than most of his listeners usually get, and he can't help the feeling therefore that his comfort zone is being trespassed on. "We'd _loooovvve_ a story from you, Clopin!" She bursts into a fit of giggles upon mentioning his name, batting her eyelashes the whole time.

Clopin chuckles, glancing to the left with his eyes and scratching his neck. "Well then… any particular story in mind?"

"Mmmm, yes!" Another one saunters up to him, folds her arms and leans in through the window. No one seems to pay attention to the fact that this close-up attention is gradually causing the gypsy king to back up against the other side of the caravan. The second speaking girl sighs, "Tell the one about how you and I end up an item!"

"Oh, well, I'm afraid I'm not familiar with that - eh, _what_?" Clopin's eyes widen behind his mask.

"And then you sweep me away, back to the Court of Miracles, and I become the Queen of the gypsies!"

"What? How do you know about the Court -"

"No! NO! Tell the one about you and ME!" Another one says, jumping up and down hyperactively.

"No, me!"

"No, ME!""ME!""ME!"

"ME!"

"ME!""ME!"

"Now, wait just a minute, ladies!" Clopin tries to protest amidst all the excited banter, but his words are drowned out. "Exactly what do you… where are you going with… what are you talking about? QUIET!" Clopin finally yells, in the manner he yelled at his puppet when the puppet "protested" against Phoebus and Quasimodo getting hanged.

Amazingly enough, it gets through to them. Like soldiers taking orders from a general, they all stop their arguing and turn back to the gypsy.

"He did his "QUIET!" yell!"

"I _love_ the way he does that!"

"Do it again, Clopin! Do it again!" They all start shouting, crowding around the caravan from all directions like hungry seagulls approaching a human with bread.

"No. No, stop! Stop! Don't touch that! What are you - hey! Put me down! Put my caravan DOWN!" he shouts, half alarmed, half angry, for the army of fangirls has proceeded to pick up his caravan, with him still inside of it, and is now marching down the street in like manner. After a while, however, they break into arguments again, in small groups which then branch out into an all-out brawl.

"Clopin is _mine!_"

"No he's not, he's MINE!"

"MINE! Mine forever!"

"Oh, go suck on what Frollo's got! Clopin's MINE!"

The spansive girl-fight out in the street attracts a number of spectators from all angles with a viewing range. Had they had the International Space Station back then, it would likely have paused in its orbit to look on.

It is impossible to deny that these women's affections, hyper and aggressive though they be, are indeed flattering to Clopin, but all this at once? It's beyond a little much. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he pulls a vial of red powder out of his tunic, tosses it down, and when the red, smoky cloud inside the caravan dissipates…

"Hey? Where did he go?"

"Clopin! Clopin, sweetie-pie!"

"Where are you?"

"CLOPIN!"

/

Back at the Court of Miracles, Clopin is just finishing sponging himself down in his tent. Nothing like a good cleanse after a such a stressful day. Just as he wrings the sponge out for the last time, however…

"Wow! What a body!"

"I just wanna snuggle with that! And glue myself to it! And never, never, NEVER let it go!"

"AGGH!" Clopin screams, turning around and seeing that _somehow _his female fanbase has found him again! Snatching his hat he runs it, from head to knees, down the length of his wet body, and in a flash - pun not intended but duly acknowledged - he is dry and fully clothed in his at-home wear again. His look of embarrassment switches to one of exasperation as the girls all start cheering and hollering.

"Omigosh! OMIGOSH! He did his clothes-changing trick!"

"Do it again! Do it again! Put on your judge costume!"

"No, no! Put on your executioner's one! 'Execute' ME tonight!"

"I have half a mind to…" he mutters.

"No, better yet! Strip yourself down again! Let's get a look at -"

"NEVER!" Clopin yells before that one can finish what must have been an obscene request. He then acrobatically leaps up to the ceiling of his tent, manouveurs himself till he's outside on top of it, and then jumps down, away from the side where the girls are gathered.

"There he goes!"

"Come back, snookums!"

All the gypsies present watch, stepping to the sides in whatever direction Clopin heads, allowing a clear path for their king to dash by. Like a swarm of wasps the women come chasing after him, always no less than twenty steps behind.

Fleeing up into the catacombs, Clopin barely looks around at where the lookouts are supposed to be as he yells at them, "How could you let them get in here? Why weren't you watching for trespassers!" Without waiting for a response he practically hurls the stone slab covering the staircase leading down to the catacombs aside, jumps up and into the graveyard, and learns the answer to his question.

Every one of the gypsies who were guarding the entrance, and who tried to stabilize the crazy crowd of fangirls, is now lying in a dazed, black-and-blue and rope-bound heap near the entrance. Before Clopin can say anything, the catacombs below echo with the sounds of gaggling girls again. "No…" he mutters, peering over the rim of the entrance. To his relief and gratitude, however, he sees a number of the gypsies, led by Esmeralda and even her husband Phoebus, tackling the women with whatever weaponry they can.

Esmeralda glances up at Clopin's astonished face, and calls out, "Just go, Clopin! We'll hold them off as long as we can!"

"_Merci_!" Clopin calls back, before taking Esmeralda's heed. Refreshing to know that his people are so eager to protect him, as he tries to protect them. Phoebus too, as a matter of fact.

Clopin continues running till he's back in the streets of Paris again. Pausing to catch his breath, he wonders briefly on how the gypsies are faring against the fans. The pounding noise of dozens and dozens of overexcited feet running at a marathon rate in his direction does not give him much to hope for.

Despite running his best, which is really quite marvellous, it is due to note, he soon finds himself overtaken by the crowd, which parts at the front to allow room for him and quickly swallows him up.

As Clopin finds himself running amidst his adversaries, he sees, strapped upsidedown on poles being carried as war tokens, Phoebus to the left of him and Esmeralda to the right.

"Wasn't very successful, was it?" he asks Esmeralda.

"You could say that."

"I'm forever indebted to you, nevertheless," he says, nodding first to her and then to Phoebus.

"Clopin, we've been friends almost forever," Esmeralda smiles despite feeling a little woozy from being kept upside-down for such a concentrated length of time. "You don't owe me, or Phoebus, a thing."

"I just can't understand why these girls aren't out after me," Phoebus comments.

"Phoebus, don't," Esmeralda frowns.

"I'm just saying."

Clopin meanwhile jumps up onto the eaves of a nearby building and waits there, hoping the horde will eventually run by and miss him altogether. Trying to outrun them is obviously a waste of time, so he'll have to be more cunning in his endeavours to escape.

Lying atop the edge of the eaves, one leg crooked into a raised angular position and one arm propping up his head, the other draped along his side, Clopin watches the stampeding fan girls rushing off to wherever they think they're going. When the last of them disappears round the bend in the street, he dramatically wipes his brow, then hops down and strolls off back to the Court of Miracles, "la-la-la-ing" "The Bells of Notre Dame" in a content fashion.

The returning rise of those squealing, babbling feminine voices proves his peace is to be shortlived. "_Oh non_! Not again!" Clopin gasps, before bolting down an alleyway.

"Help. Help! HELP!" Once again, upon hearing Clopin's frantic pleas, everyone stops what their doing and gives this spectacle their full attention. The children see their storyteller and friend, in what they assume to be great peril, and leap to his defense, charging in amongst the women yelling, "HEY! Leave him alone!"

Clopin skids to a halt and turns around. "_Non, mes enfants_! These women are mad! They'll tear you apart!" But then he sees that the women actually have enough humanity to be gentle with the children… actually, it seems they've distracted them quite successfully, judging by how they're busying themselves with chattering on about how great he must be with kids, since all the Parisian children love him so much. "Well," Clopin says as though to them, "they are so adorable I can hardly help it!" When the children peek out at him from amongst the female crowd and wink in unison, he takes that as his cue to dash off again, but not before saluting them for their efforts.

"_Of course. Notre Dame! Why didn't I think of that before?_" Clopin thinks to himself. He adjusts his course till he reaches the cathedral, sprints up the steps, practically swings himself in through the door and cries out, "Sanctuary!"

Funny. His call had a bit of a hollow echo, didn't it? Something's not right. He slowly turns away from the door and his tan complexion quickly blanches to that of salt at what he sees. First off, there's the priest, bound like the gypsies were and conked out, with stars rotating around his head. Then, up above, ala "The Birds," there appears to be countless monks perched in every corner, nook, cranny, stained glass window, all staring down directly at Clopin. They then lower their hoods… yes. Yes, he might have figured it was them.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Clopin tiptoes his way down the aisle of the cathedral, being ever so careful not to take his eyes off his psychotically passionate admirers. The priest groans as he starts to come to, which causes the fixated females to start. "Shh!" Clopin hisses at the semi-conscious man, then returns his gaze to the women. He then carefully proceeds, backwards (so as to keep his gaze trained on them) up the stairs to the bell tower, for finally an idea has entered his mind on how he can be freed of this unwanted collective. Everything is lethally quiet. Liken the quietness to that which can be found in a crowd that is completely aware it is standing entirely on a minesweeping field, and that just one false step, from any one person, could cause a detonation that would destroy the whole region and miles around.

This lasts until Clopin has finally reached the living quarters of Quasimodo. As quickly as he can (those women don't waste a minute!), he explains his plight, and also his plan for ridding himself of this magnanimous nuisance, and how Quasi comes into it.

When the fangirls arrive in the tower, they find Clopin alone, over by Quasimodo's display of wooden carvings. "There you are!" They all speak as one, as they begin to march in an advance towards him.

"Now, now look here, ladies," Clopin perspires as he backs away, then shimmies up the wall into the rafters. "Um, uh, you see…" he then draws out his puppet which resembles himself. Speaking through the puppet, he announces, "Beautiful ladies! Visions of loveliness! Clopin Trouillefou, King of the gypsies, has something important to say!"

All the fan girls stop in their tracks, waiting expectantly to hear Clopin speak. "Silly boy," Clopin, smiling, taps the nose of the puppet, "he can be so vague. What I actually wanted was to make an enquiry. Since you all hold such a high opinion of my many talents," he winks at the girls, all of whom blush and some of whom flutter their hearts, sigh, or collapse backwards, which he has to try hard not to laugh at, "I wondered if you might like for me to sing you a song?"

The eruption of cheers which rings through the room almost as loud as the bells themselves is all the answer he needs. "Haha, very well. Any particular one in mind?"

"Oh, oh! 'The Bells of Notre Dame'!"

"Topsy Turvy!"

"Yeah! Topsy Turvy!"

"Yeah, but skip to the part about crowning the King of Fools!"

"Oh yeah! That's my favourite part!"

"I see my audience has very particular tastes," Clopin grins, then bows low, "very well. As you wish. Ahem-ahem!"

The girls do not see him wink at someone/something off to the side, before he backflips onto the windowsill. Getting into the performance, he dances around like he does on stage, singing:

"_Here it is! The moment you've been waiting for!_

_Here it is! You don't know what I have in store!_

_Now's the time I'll laugh until my sides are sore!_

_I'll soon be rid of all these female FOOLS!_"

"Huh? What?" The women break into a chorus of puzzled whispers. Clopin leans against the frame of the window, arms folded and legs crossed, waiting for the _piece de resistance_.

Suddenly, Victor, Hugo and Laverne, together with all of Laverne's birds, swarm down on the girls. Shrieking and shouting ensues, followed by a number of occurrences for which, were this onscreen, the screen would need to go black for a few moments.

/

Before he departs, Clopin issues Quasimodo and his gargoyle friends a final thank you.

"I can't thank you enough!" he declares.

"Don't mention it," Laverne smiles. "I know how hard it gets when you have to put up with so much love!" She frowns up at her birds, but in an affectionate way… she's grown used to it.

"Too true," Clopin laughs. "_Au revoir_!"

Back down in the streets, Clopin once more marches off, singing:

"_Although they're a bother,_

_I'd very much rather,_

_Listen to the lilt,_

_Of the _belles_ of Notre DAME!_"

In perfect timing with his climatic singing, Quasi rings the bells for the evening mass, all of which have a number of the women bound inside. Their wails and protests sound humorously like a parody of the harmonizing chorus to that song.

**The end.**

**AN: Kind of cute, how all the characters want to help Clopin get away from those girls. Well, doubtless I've now got all his fans pointing guns or worse at me, but that's not the worst I've had to put up with…**

**On the end part, I couldn't resist introducing the notion that Clopin knows about the gargoyles; this entire concept is a joke after all and I think that just made it work all the better. Besides, if any of the characters aside from Quasimodo, Djali, and Madellaine in the second film were to know that the gargoyles are sentient, it'd most likely be Clopin!**


End file.
